Hope and Need
by darlasmom
Summary: My tag for Cinderella in Cardboard. Booth POV. And yes, it's BB!


**Okay, not too bad an episode, all in all. Some good BB moments, and some interesting moments regarding couples and partnership and relationships. We'll see where the show goes from here...My tag for Cinderella in cardboard. No huge dramatics, just a quiet continuation of the last scene, since sometimes I wonder if it all won't start that way. **

**HOPE AND NEED**

This is not a good idea.

I know the minute she sinks dejectedly onto my couch with the scotch bottle that this is not a good idea. The love of my life plus whiskey plus a soft, forgiving surface equals bad things happening. Good bad things. But I can't turn her away. I can count on one finger the number of times she's come by unannounced to voluntarily discuss her worries and fears with me. More often I wind up at her place, furiously digging away at her walls. They're fortress-like, thick and buried deep, banked high with dirt and rocks and prickly briars. She hasn't yet taken them down, so I usually tunnel underneath them. Tonight is the first sign that she might be clearing a path for me, however slowly. How can I not approach?

So I take the glass and perch on the couch, at a loss for words. I have nothing. Finally, I spit out my old line, the one about how she'll feel what everyone else does, she'll find that one perfect person. Someday. And it sounds just like that - an old line. _She_ thinks it is, too – I can tell by the way she looks at me. She's tired of hearing it because she doesn't believe it. I'm tired of saying it because I know she doesn't believe it. If she believed it, she'd start looking for it, searching for that one special person. I'm not so sure that that's a good idea. That saying about not seeing the forest for the trees pops into my head, but with a twist. Bones has a way of not seeing the trees for the forest. If she starts looking, _really_ looking for _the one_, I have a funny feeling she'll look everywhere but right next to her. I guess I can't blame her. She's not one to tread where she's not welcome, Bones. And she's been giving my stoop a wide berth ever since I yanked the welcome mat inside. Right after Epps. I couched what I said back then in broad, general terms, afraid to even hint at my feelings. But Bones? She misunderstood what I said and heard exactly what I meant. And you don't have to tell her anything twice.

So we sit and drink, and sit and drink some more. I remember doing this with my Army buddies, when they needed it. Or when I needed it. Somehow, those times always gave me strength, helped me find some peace. This is only making things worse. Sooner or later, I'm going to toss back one shot too much, and I'm going to say something I shouldn't. It would be better if she left. I'm much better at the getting drunk business if the object of my intense desire and affection _isn't_ in the room. I make up my mind and turn to ask her to leave, or offer to leave myself. Before I can get the words out, the look on her face makes me instantly forget them.

She's miserable. Complete and total finish-the-whole-bottle-of-scotch miserable. This isn't like anything I've seen on her before. I've seen her terrified, and distraught, and angry, and devastated. This is just so totally different from all of those that I'm stunned. She looks like she's giving up. Losing hope. No tears, no imminent breakdown. Just a horrible finality. Like she's making an unalterable decision. I have to do something. I have to _say_ something. I'm not going to let this happen. She deserves better; she deserves everything. "Bones." She's slow to look at me, so I repeat myself. Finally, she turns, putting on what I imagine she thinks is a blank expression, and probably would be, if it wasn't also so bleak.

"What, Booth?"

Her tone is listless, and yet, almost challenging – she's tired of my platitudes. I realize that sometime in the last ten minutes _I_ got tired of them too. "I – I might be able to…" Now I'm stuttering like a teenager. Appropriate, I guess, since she makes me feel like one every time I'm near her. I tell myself it's just like going to that first GA meeting. One step after another - one word after another. She's shifting impatiently now, and I grab her hand to keep her next to me. One deep breath and it's time. "I might be able to help you with this."

She frowns – clearly, I'm being too vague. "I don't understand. Help me with what?"

I turn further toward her, facing her completely and holding her hand more tightly. My mind lets out one frightened whimper before I continue, but I ignore it. "With what we were talking about. Your view on love, and the jealously you've been feeling."

"I…still don't understand. How can you possibly help me? There's no help for this, and there's no changing it, either. It's just the way it is."

While I expect stoicism from her, I'm surprised by her passivity, her fatalism. This is not a woman who accepts things as beyond her control. At least she never used to be that woman. "Well, I've been thinking about this for a while, a long time, really, and it just doesn't seem right to – well, to not say anything to you." This is painful, hideously so, and something of my struggle must show because her fingers curl around mine in a quiet show of support. It works, amazingly well. It always does, when it's Bones. "We've been partners for about four years now, and friends for almost as long." She sits quietly watching me, very carefully saying nothing. Waiting. I should be able to handle this; I'm a fucking Army Ranger, for Christ's sake. But I think I'd rather face my old enemies again than say what comes next. There's no help for it, though, and I swallow hard. It's time to admit my addiction. "I think we could give it a chance. We _should_ give it a chance."

"Give _what_ a chance?"

She knows what I'm talking about. I can see it in her eyes. I suppose I don't blame her for holding back, though. I guess I threw up a wall, too. I have to be the one to rip it down. "You and me. Us. Together." Now that the first words are out, the bottleneck is cleared, and I feel the rest of what I want to say surging forward. It's all I can do to keep my mouth shut and go slow. _More_ slow, after years of slow, is almost intolerable. It's clear that I've shocked her. At least, I hope it's shock.

"You want us to…be together. Have intimate relations."

That blank look is back, only now it's truly blank. I hastily shift, sitting on the coffee table in front of her and taking both of her hands in mine. Hers are shaking. Is that a good sign? The need to convince her is on me now, and the floodgates are open, for sure. "Well, yeah, maybe, eventually. But let's take our time for a while. We could date, first. Get to know each other in a different way. We enjoy each others company, and I think we get along very well. Why not give it a shot?" Her face isn't blank now. It's alive with questions, and arguments, and emotions. This Bones I know. _This_ Bones I can deal with. If I'm very lucky I'll get to deal with this Bones for a long, _long_ time.

"We don't get along well, Booth. We argue constantly, and we have different beliefs about _everything_."

"Yeah, but it doesn't ever affect how we feel about each other, does it?" I'm in a fever to convince her; I _have_ to convince her. The alternative is to lock her in my apartment and never let her out, and I'm pretty sure that wouldn't go too well. "We talk, and that's the important thing."

"We've never talked about this."

Shit. She's got a point. "Maybe it wasn't time until now, Bones. We had to work our way through a lot of crap to get to this spot together. Maybe now's the right moment for us."

"What about the line? What if you decide you want it again? Our jobs aren't getting any less dangerous…"

I sigh. I know these things need to be discussed. I guess I had everything all figured out in my head, so I assumed she would automatically _know_ what I was thinking. Which was pretty stupid on my part. This is Bones, after all. "I want you to understand what I was thinking when I did that. I drew the line because of you, not because of Cam." I catch the flicker in her eyes. Yep, she got it right the first time, when I talked to her about it at the merry go round. She knew that line was for her. But I have to explain it to her anyway – I owe her that much, after all this time. "Cam and I - we were almost done when she was poisoned. All I remember is looking at you and imagining what I would do if it had been you who was in the hospital. So I did the worst thing I could have done. I let a psychotic serial killer have control over my life."

"But…what changed your mind?"

Oh, boy. I _really_ should have expected this. Bones is never happy unless she either has the answers to all of the questions, or is about to _get_ all the answers to the questions. Well, I'll give them all to her, no matter how much it hurts. At least she's still here. She hasn't run yet, or decked me – I can only hope it stays that way. "A couple months or so after the whole fuck-up with Epps, I came into the lab to see you about the skull fragments for the consulate case. I was going to take you to lunch."

"I remember, but you _didn't_ show up – you called and said you forgot you had a meeting, and couldn't come that day. I was surprised. You'd never done that before."

"I was at the lab." Now I definitely had her attention. I could tell she really wanted to say she didn't understand, but she held strong, and just waited. "I came in, intending to take you out for a meal and review the case with you, just like we'd planned."

She frowned again.

The minute I walked in, I saw you. Angela said something to you, something funny, and you laughed. You _really_ laughed. It was like someone kicked me in the chest." I absently rub my shirt, remembering the shock. "Everything changed, right in that moment. That final aspect of you, the part I couldn't figure out, the piece I couldn't find, I finally saw it. I knew I was in trouble then. Big trouble. I walked right back out, got in the truck, and called you to tell you I couldn't make it." I hadn't known, then, if I _would_ make it at all. I'm beginning to wonder it all over again. This is going from asking her for a date to basically telling her I love her in way too short a time. She's getting that analytical glint in her eye. I know now that it's a defense for her, a defense against feeling too much. Her mouth is beginning to open again, undoubtedly to ask another question. I'm getting this all wrong. The time for talking is over. So I lean in, tugging on her hands and sealing my mouth quietly over hers.

Yes.

This is what I wanted. What I want.

This is right.

I feel her pulling, and my heart sinks for a minute until I realize that she's not pulling away from me – she's pulling me _to_ her. Well, in some ways I'm just like Bones. You don't have to tell me anything twice. I'm on the couch again, only this time she's half in my lap, and doing her best to get the rest of the way there. She feels soft, so many different kinds of soft I didn't know she had, from her lips to her tongue to her soft hands against my back. Wow. Soft, and yet it's like grabbing a firecracker and realizing it's a stick of dynamite. Shit. I can't breathe, and neither can she. We break apart for air, our lips still touching, Bones still in my lap. She made it all the way over. I don't know when, but she did it. As I look at her, taking in the sight of everything I nearly lost, I see something in her eyes, something besides the burgeoning happiness and the heady desire.

I see hope.

I pull her closer to me again, knowing I'm going to get rid of that hope, and soon. Because you don't need hope when you have what you want.

**If you read and you liked, then thanks for taking the time, I really appreciate it. And, another new episode tomorrow night! How great is that?**

**Thanks again.  
**


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